


Into The Tunnels

by tyomawrites



Category: Metro 2033 - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyomawrites/pseuds/tyomawrites
Summary: As a boy you had looked up to the Spartan Order, and the Rangers that defended the D6 bunker. Yet with fear that stirred easily in the pit of your stomach, you did not know whether you'd survive as a Ranger, but you would try, if not for your own selfish reasons, then you'd fight to protect the bunker, from whatever enemies it came to face.





	Into The Tunnels

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'm Keeping The Knife](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239207) by [ThatDamnKennedyKid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid). 



As a young boy retreating to the metros with your family, you had understood that life was not going to be the same. Your family had been wandering through the gardens, like the rest of the city when when the missiles had struck, your parents had grabbed you and your siblings hands, and you all had run for the station.

It wasn’t as if you’d lost anyone, you all had managed to make it, your entire family clutching each other tightly, herded underground like the rest of the population of Moscow, as missile shells rained down on the earth and became a backdrop for thousands of people around retreating into safety below ground all over the country.

 

* * *

 

Life in the metros was something out of a book, granted seemingly like a horror novel, as you grew older, you heard more stories of monsters and mutants, creeping their way through the tunnels and catching stray survivors, bandits, who robbed and pillaged and raped and killed. You had grown up with stories of heroes and Rangers who protected the station from those things that lurked outside the gates… and you had heard stories of him. Artyom, the Ranger who’d saved the the stations from war, twice. Saving something twice was far from being an accident.

Living in Exhibition wasn’t easy. What, when you had idolized the Rangers and their jobs, the freedom their lives and the Order had given them. But your daydreams were curbed by your mother’s palm against the back of your head, as your eyes strayed far too close to the weaponry and the people that gathered attention each time the gates to the metro tunnels opened and closed. Your dreams would be of heroics and bravery, that your mother would dampen with reminders of what had left your brothers in the hospital with gaping wounds and broken, heavy minds, suffering from the loss of their innocence and sanity. But yet your hands still reached for them, your dreams of saving the people of Exhibition just like Artyom had done. You couldn’t help the thrill you had longed for, despite the fear that burned in the pit of your stomach, and the trepidation that hid in your mothers eyes when the topic had come up at dinner time.

You made an easy living down in the Metros, despite not being a Polis Ranger or one of the guards. You made games of shooting and hunting for a living, although you chose to do it in ‘back streets’ and alleyways beyond the cluster of the population and closer to the edges of the gates. Any form of meat that was less likely to be irradiated fetched a high price amongst butchers. You made do with looting dead bodies and old trains, shops, cars and busses on the surface with your friends, the ones that your mother trusted to bring you home in one piece even if they didn’t return.

Any bullets you had, you had given to your mother for safe keeping, and she had done so, there was a box under your bed that refused to be touched by your family, that was guarded by your youngest brother, who was born and raised after the world had been destroyed. He refused to leave your shared room, and your parents wouldn’t force him, so your bullets stayed safe, and with them came your funds to become a Ranger.

It was a busy day at the markets when the Rangers had returned from another mission in Oktyabrskaya, they were guarding a railcar that was returning with more canned food and provisions, among them was Artyom, the man you had wanted to speak with. Your mother was among many of the people who were looking to trade bullets for food, and as she was caught up in the bartering for goods, you’d slipped off after the young Ranger in an attempts to speak with him.

“Artyom!” You had shouted above the crowd, as you weaved between the cramped crowd of people. Your hand had grasped his shoulder and he turned, his eyes gazing at you, clearly wondering through his mask.

“Dimochka?” The moment of his head, the tone of his voice, indicated a question, by now you could read his gestures without trouble and his voice without thought, with the amount of time you had spent following, trying to learn from him, wanting his attention to be on you and no one else.

“Artyom, I must speak with you, I truly, truly believe that I could be of help to you and the rest of the Rangers.” His expression softened, he’d had this conversation with you before, many a times, all of which your mother had interfered and had dragged you from Artyom’s side with talk of boyish dreams and apologies. You had been winning Artyom over to your side for months with talk of you joining the Rangers, you had been trying to prove to him that you were good enough to follow in their footsteps.

“Dimochka, you know how your mother feels about this yes?”

“I know, I know.” You pleaded, before you could say much more however, your mother had interrupted you once more like routine, as if she had a sixth sense for such things. She gripped your ear between her thumb and index finger, ignoring the cry you let out.

“I’m so sorry Artyom, please do not take any consideration to him, childish dream, he’s too inexperienced for you to consider.” She spoke clearly, yet bored with this same conversation that she had to have many a time with you and Artyom. The young Ranger had only gave you a smile at that, before nodding.

“I will speak to Miller, see what I can do, but do not get your hopes up.” leaned in to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “See you soon kotyonok.”

Your face had gone red at that, as he spoke softly into your ear. God only knew what your face had looked like to him as he smiled behind his helmet, you could tell by the crows feet at his eyes. You felt stunned, as he backed away into the crowd. You stood there wondering to yourself, until the fingers that were pinching at your ear pinched harder and dragged you from both your awestruck, flustered state, and your place in the crowd. Your mother scolding you as she pulled you along the market streets towards home.


End file.
